


Proof of Life

by Gilbird14



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, McHanzo Week 2020, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26090980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilbird14/pseuds/Gilbird14
Summary: Hanzo thinks that scars are a sign of weakness and something to be ashamed of. McCree tries to convince him otherwise.Written for McHanzo Week 2020 Day 2: Scars/Promises
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Proof of Life

It hadn't been a particular exhausting day in the base, but Hanzo and McCree had decided to go back to their joint quarters earlier than usual. The younger agents were playing videogames in the living room and it wasn't as if they needed them or anything. After a cold refreshing shower, both men laid on their bed with doing anything in particular, content of each other presence. It was a rather summer night, so neither Hanzo or McCree wore any shirts, but the temperature didn't prevent them from cuddling. Taking advantage of this fact, the cowboy started tracing patterns mindlessly on Hanzo's back. He though it would help the archer relax and, he was accomplishing that until Hanzo yelped out of the blue.  
  
"What are you doing?! Get your hands off me," Hanzo demanded strongly as he moved away from the cowboy's touch.  
  
"Hanzo, darlin', what's wrong?" Jesse inquires as he was about to touch Hanzo's shoulder, but he quickly backed away before doing it. While he was drawing back his hand to his side, McCree saw the cause of the sudden change in his lover's behavior. "Wait, is this because of the scar on your back? We all have them. It isn't a big deal."   
  
Hanzo waited a couple more seconds than necessary to reply to McCree. "It is a mark of shame, Jesse. It is the reminder that I was weak and not good enough. I did not live up to my family's expectations..."  
  
Hanzo wasn't facing the gunslinger when he said that. However, McCree knew that the archer had a stern expression on his face. He believed every word he said and all the words he said were wrong. Jesse had to fix that, so he interrupted Hanzo's self-depreciating speech.  
  
"Listen to me carefully. Scarred skin isn't ugly or a mark of weakness. Scars have another color, different from your skin. That alone makes them stand out, yes. They can be rough or surprisingly soft to the touch. They can be thick or thin. They can project from your skin or sink in it. They can be big or really small. They can have any shape you can imagine. However, there are scars that cannot be seen, those we bear on the inside. This type of scars is even worse to deal with, because they are invisible to the naked eye. You know what I'm talking about, darlin'... Scars on your very soul."   
  
The conversation had turned the night into a more serious tone than the cowboy had expected. Hanzo was probably thinking about what he did to Genji and what consequences it had. Hanzo was coming to terms with what he had done, but it was a slow process and McCree knew that. Accepting the worst version of yourself isn't easy and it takes time and effort. Jesse would always be there for Hanzo. He would help him carry all his burdens and walk with him the path of forgiveness.  
  
"But, it doesn't matter which type I'm talking about, because all scars are beautiful," the cowboy added at the end.  
  
Hanzo snorted and voiced his complain clearly. "Don't be silly, Jesse. I know you are saying that to make me feel better about all this. Scars are imperfections. No one would ever find them as an object of admiration."  
  
"Aw, darlin', you wound me. You find me weak, ugly and you don't love me..." Jesse added dramatically.  
  
"I didn't say that," Hanzo replied almost immediately, turning his body to face the cowboy.  
  
"Not directly, but you did, darlin'. I'm mostly made of scarred tissue. You only need to look at my arm when the prosthetic isn't there. I also have more scars than I can count..." McCree tucked behind the archer's ear a loose strand of hair that hanged near the latter's nose. His movements were as soft and delicate as always. "So, according to you, you can never love me or even like me."   
  
"Jesse, stop. I know you do not believe what you are saying, because you know it is not true. So, why do you insist so much on it?" Hanzo looked intensely at the man in front of him demanding answers.  
  
"Because, if you can accept my scars, my imperfections as you have called them, you can also accept yours," unfazed by Hanzo's stare, the cowboy continued talking. "Don't look at me as if I had something on my face. I'm serious. It's easy to accept the scars from others, but not your own. Believe me, been there, done that," McCree said as he moved his metallic arm to emphasize what he was saying. Hanzo was about to interrupt him, but Jesse didn't allow him and continued speaking. The gunslinger knew the other would say something about his brother. "Well, maybe not the ones that were caused by yourself, but that is beyond my point. What I mean when I say that scars are beautiful is that they are the proof that their bearer is still alive, that they survived."  
  
Those words echoed inside Hanzo. Genji wasn't dead, he was alive. He wasn't exactly the same brother he knew, not in shape at least, but he had survived. Jesse had his own fair share of scars, but he was there with him, breathing and talking to him, very much alive. He didn't wear his scars or metallic arm with shame. No, Jesse was proud of every single one of them, because he knew he endured and kept living. Hanzo was trying to process this information, so the only thing he let out was a quiet oh.  
  
"Scars can have as many shapes as words exist in a language. Their meaning and their origin can come from a wide range of options and possibilities. For example, look at this one," McCree said as he put his good hand in front of Hanzo's face so that he could examine it. "On my middle finger close to the middle there's a little cut, do you see it?" Hanzo took the hand and analyzed it, until he found what he was looking for and nodded. "Well, this one comes from when I was back on the Deadlock gang. I was pretty dumb back then and that's saying something, darlin'. You see, we used to play with knifes. We had to stab it between our fingers. The faster we did it, the better. So, one day I went and I stabbed myself there. You'll think I'm a fool and, to be totally fair, I was and I still am. Thank you very much," McCree smiled as he said this. Hanzo couldn't help smiling fondly at the image of a teenager Jesse sticking his tongue out in concentration as he tried to master the correct technique to win at the stupid knife game. "I have others from my missions with Blackwatch and Overwatch. Angela has a talent to erase them almost completely, the less important ones at least. You won't see many of them, because of that, only the deeper ones. Luckily, they are not many or otherwise I wouldn't be here enjoying your company, darlin'." McCree smiled softly at Hanzo, who was now holding his hand. However, after a few seconds, his expression turned serious as he resumed talking. "Even, the worst gunshot I have received cannot be compared to the pain a wound in the soul can do. It is invisible to others. They don't know the person is hurting and suffering alone in silence. Sometimes this person doesn't know they are hurting and metaphorically bleeding out. They can do a lot of dangerous stuff in order to prevent feeling like they do. It is only when these wounds are healed or beginning to heal, that they start living. That is why I said that soul wounds leave the biggest mark on their bearer, despite it not being visible. These scars are the sign of growth and overcoming, the medal of honor of having survived the proof that you are still among the living. That's why they are beautiful, because they say that you survived whatever life had thrown at you. Maybe they are imperfections, but as the saying goes "Corpses can't heal"."  
  
Hanzo stayed silent, processing every single piece of information Jesse had given him. It was a lot to unpack. It spoke volumes of what the cowboy had gone through in his life. It was a lot. Hanzo didn't knew all the details and Jesse didn't know all the details about his life either, but one day Hanzo would explain his past to Jesse. He wanted to, but he didn't feel as comfortable accepting what he had done to share it with the gunslinger. That day, he would understand the growth McCree had experienced and the good it had done to him. That day he would finally begin to heal.  
  
"Those words were beautiful, Jesse. Thank you. I only have one doubt though," Hanzo saw the man in front of him visibly paying attention to what he was saying. "When have you become so wise?" Hanzo asked without an ounce of malice. He felt grateful for the cowboy's advice, but he also wanted to change the heavy atmosphere around them.  
  
"I don't know, but I think it's your fault, darlin'. Your intelligence is rubbing off on me," McCree said with a big smile on his face as he moved his face closer to Hanzo's.  
  
"You don't give yourself enough credit, Jesse," Hanzo replied as he closed the space between the two.


End file.
